Foreign Love
by hidingELSEWHERE
Summary: After moving to Slovenia under suspicious circumstances, Molly discovers her family's plan for an arranged marriage between her and the son of a wealthy Slovenian family. The only thing? The boy hates her, she hates the boy, and he loves human blood.
1. Chapter One

**IMPORTANT NOTE: **Hey, everyone! I'd like to welcome you all to my little story. I've had this idea in my head for a while, but I've never really had the creative flow to actually write it down. So, basically, I'm forcing myself to write this down. Which means, that it's probably going to suck. But please, if you have any suggestions, let me know! The first chapter is very, very, very, very short. Also, I'm just getting back into writing. I've had a lot of problems in my life lately, so I haven't be able to write in a while.

As for the appearance of my characters, I will describe them when I get the chance. However, describing physical appearances is not my forte. So, I've put some celebrity faces to my characters? Molly looks very similar to Paige Kessler, and Liam looks very close to Alex Evans. And ... I haven't really given the others much thought. When I do, I'll post them up as well. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this little story thing, etc.

OH, and please note that there will be blood, romance, and vampires. And some abuse. Just as a fair warning?

* * *

My grandparents failed to tell me why we were moving to Slovenia. I assumed it was because grandmother was born there and that she maybe wanted to pay her respect to an old friend who had passed away … or maybe they had inherited a piece of land. There weren't that many reasons we would move. We couldn't afford to buy the empty house down the street, never less a home in another country. I had tried to ask them how they spontaneously found the money to buy a house in Europe, and why we were going there. I really did, I swear. Yet, I never really got the answer I was looking for. Grandpa would always answer, "They haven't seen you in a while."

I closed my book as I saw the flight attendant approaching. She moved slowly, getting caught in between the narrow row of seats. There was barely room to move in the tiny, private aircraft.

"We'll be landing soon, 'honey," the lady said when she finally reached my seat, displaying her slight southern accent. We had taken off from Louisiana about six hours ago. "Make sure all your items are secure and –"I blocked out the rest of her sentence.

"I'm sure you'll like it there, Molly," My grandfather chimed in from beside me a few seconds later, almost as if he was reading my mind. He started to adjust the collar to the white, buttoned shirt he wore under his usual burgundy sweater. I glanced over at my grandmother as she poked her head over the seat in front of me.

"Whatever you say," I muttered, not meaning to sound as frustrated as I did.

"It's what's best for you," he said, his answer once again puzzling me to the point where my head began to hurt. There was an awkward silence.

"Just … Molly …" my grandmother trailed off from the row before me, "just remember that we love you, okay?"

My heart began to pound. I knew something was wrong, but I had no idea what to do about it. The entire situation was just … not right. This wasn't like my grandparents. This just wasn't like them. I quietly bit my lip, and nodded. Grandma flashed me a small, forced smile. And for the first time, her smile wasn't the least bit comforting.


	2. Chapter Two

The house was a small, stone cottage, built high up in the mountains that were located about a hundred miles away from the city of Bistrica. The first thing I noticed was the fact that it looked like no one had lived there in years. The roof was actually nothing but what appeared to be two layers of wood, with a stone chimney sticking out from the center. The pathway to the door consisted of dead leaves and dry straw, and a few trees had fallen in the yard. There was even a barn in the backyard, but it honestly looked unusable from where I was standing. The red paint had started to peel off, and had even turned an ugly shade of mahogany in some spots. At that point, I couldn't believe my grandparents had gone through with this.

I stood there in the thick blanket of snow, staring in absolute horror at my new home. What happened to our nice, New Orleans apartment? What happened to Grandma's embroidery shop? And Grandpa's job at the office? It was all gone. All of it. And now I was standing in middle of a field, holding my knit jacket close to my body as small snow flakes gently frosted my clothing.

I glanced over to my left. My grandparents were standing by the cottage, both talking to the ex-owner about what I was sure was finalizing the purchase. They looked shockingly cliché; an elderly couple laughing and talking about their new, exciting European lives with a local. It was almost too surreal.

"Molly!" I heard Grandma call as she pulled a cigarette out of her jacket pocket. She motioned for me to come closer with her spare hand as she lifted the tobacco stick to her mouth, inhaling the smoke. After she was done, she tossed it into the snow, not even bothering to make sure it was out. She started to fix her gray, wiry hair as I made my way towards her. She flashed me a crooked smile, and when I was close enough to her, she wrapped her long, bony arm around my shoulder. "Artur, this is my granddaughter, Molly." She tilted her head towards me as she looked over at the man she had been talking to. She grinned, then reached over to start messing with the lavender colored beret I was wearing on my head.

The man nodded. "Ahhh, yes!" he said in his heavy Slavic accent. He folded her arms, smiling along with my grandmother. "She is Liam's _snoubenka_, I am correct?"

I stood there, clueless as my grandfather nodded. "Excuse me?" I asked, messing with my long, light brown hair – something I did often when I was confused. There was silence.

Instead of responding, Artur just glared at me, then looked back over at my grandmother. "He is not as eager as his family wishes," he said to my grandparents, as if he thought I was joking when I stated I didn't understand.

My grandfather was the next to speak. "Molly, go inside and make sure all the boxes are in there."

I glared at the three of them, and reluctantly started to walk over to the wooden door to the stone cottage. I couldn't help but look back over my shoulder as I struggled to get the old doorknob to turn, watching as the three whispered under their breath. I removed my lavender mittens, then started to struggle with the door once again.

I stepped inside, feeling a rush of warm air flood through my body as I noticed the lit fireplace in the corner. Next to it were piles and piles of boxes, all belonging to my family. I began to go through them one by one, making sure that all our items where accounted for.

What seemed like thirty minutes had gone by before I heard someone entered the cottage. I looked up from the box I was looking through, quickly brushing the hair from my face so I could see. I saw my grandparents standing in the doorway, both brushing the snow from their clothing. All was quiet for what seemed like forever.

I decided to break the silence. "We're missing Grandma's good china …" I trailed off.

"You've got to be shitting me!" My grandmother exclaimed, hurrying over towards me and beginning to frantically look through the boxes. I backed away slowly, not wanting to get in the way of her search.

"I'm telling you, it's not there." I muttered softly. "I looked for like ten minutes."

I watched as she folded her arms, kicking one of the boxes by her feet. "I'm telling you, it better get here by Tuesday…"

"Adelea, I think we have more important things to do then worry about plates right now." My grandfather ran a hand through what hair he had left. "Molly, go put something nice on. We've been invited to dinner."


	3. Chapter Three

Artur had offered to drive me up the mountain to the so called 'dinner' I had been invited to. I took about ten minutes to get dressed, but Grandma immediately rejected the very casual outfit I was wearing – a pair of jeans, accompanied by a purple shirt_ I_ thought was worthy of a fancy occasion. But, as usual, my grandmother disagreed. She immediately had me return to the cottage's back room to exchange my clothing for an outfit that was "more impressing".

I returned to the main room dressed in a white blouse that looked very much like a tank top, but with fine lace framing my neck and hips, along with a short pencil skirt that rested a few inches above my knee, and a pair of thin stockings. Of course, I also wore my usual light purple beret and a pair of snow boots (I assumed we would be walking through the thick blanket of ice that coated the ground outside).

My grandparents didn't speak much when I stepped into sight. My grandmother just nodded with approval, and Grandpa handed me one of my sweaters – the gray knitted one, if you're wondering. In an awkward silence, they both pushed me out the door.

Outside, Artur was waiting by what at least looked like an old piece of junk. He flashed me a friendly smile, motioning for me to come forward. Before I could even take a step forward, he had the 'car' – if you even want to refer to it as that- door open, waiting for me to take a seat in the back. Hurriedly, I pranced across the field towards the dirt road, plopping myself into the ancient, almost colonial appearing vehicle.

I sat silently as Artur slammed the door shut, and walked around to the driver's seat. The engine made a deafening screeching sound, causing me to jump as I hugged my jacket closer to me. I glanced out the window towards the house, and what I saw scared me. My grandparents were no where in sight.

"Why aren't they coming?" I asked suddenly, trying not to let my confusion show through my voice.

Artur glanced back over his shoulder at me, and I noticed his rather odd features. He had a huge nose, double chin, and cold, empty eyes. His brutal, frozen appearance sent shivers down my spine. He turned back around to face the steering wheel before he replied. "They were not invited."

"And I was?"

"Yes, you were." Artur pressed the gas petal, and I felt the car jerk forward. "It is you that is becoming a Doubek. Not them."

"What?" I asked, not meaning to sound rude.

Artur was silent for what seemed like decades. "I had a feeling they would not have the nerve to tell you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" My frustration was getting to me. I had been putting up with secrets long enough.

"It is for you to find out yourself. If his parents do not tell you, I'm sure the boy will soon enough."

"Wait, _what boy_? Where are we going anyway?"

"The Doubek Estate, 'my dear." Artur shook his head. "May He have mercy on your soul."

I paused for a moment. "Why would I need God's mercy?"

The middle aged man let out a creepy chuckle. "Oh, not God, Molly. Liam." I noticed he began to squeeze the metal steering wheel tighter then he had been before. "But, I would not worry. I do not think he would do anything to you. That would upset his parents very much. And if he upsets his parents, they will not turn him."

"Okay, look, I have no idea what your talking about and I _really_ think you should –"

"We are here," Artur interrupted, causing my line of sight to bolt out the window next to me.

I failed to notice the huge mansion that lay behind the huge iron gates at first. Instead, my eyes laid on the small trail of blood leading up to the entrance.

"


	4. Chapter Four

Artur must have seen the look on my face, because he shot me a fake, comforting smile. "There is no need to worry. It is just a rabbit." He pointed his long, bony finger towards one of the trees by the gates, then proceeded with getting out of the car. "See?"

I looked over to where he was pointing. I immediately had to look away. The dead body of a large rabbit was laying in the bloodstained snow, it's head and feet completely removed, and its body skinned and rotting. I pushed the car door open, starting to gag as I got out.

"I suggest you get used to it, young lady," I heard Artur say from behind me as I bent over, trying to prevent myself from throwing up. He had a tone of sorrow and distress to his voice. "You should hurry. You will be late."

I straightened up, not daring to look back over at the decomposing corpse. I glanced back over my shoulder at Artur, who had already found his way back into the vehicle. I heard the screech of the engine start once again.

"Wait!" I yelled, taking a few steps closer to the car. "When will you be back to pick me up?"

"I will not be."

"So my grandparents are coming for me?"

Artur paused. His stone cold eyes grew dark and gloomy, and his smile turned into a deep frown. "They are already preparing to board a plane back to America, 'my dear…"

I was speechless – paralyzed. I felt myself remain motionless for what seemed like months.

"Is this Miss Beaumont?" I heard a soft, yet almost growl-like voice from behind me. I didn't dare turn around, partially because I was still in shock – my heart pounding faster and faster.

I watched as Artur nodded, then pushed the gas petal. He waved at me as he pulled away, flashing me a look of pure sorrow, not even bothering to disguise his worry.

"Miss Beaumont?" I heard again.

I turned around slowly.

"It is nice to meet you. I am Annelie." The girl held out her hand. " … Liam's sister."


	5. Hey Everyone!

Hai everyone! Just wanted to pop in a say that I'm not dead, and I do plan on continuing. I've been busy with exams and a horrible English teacher who expects us to write an essay every night. Sucks, right? Well, exams are almost over for now, so I promise a new chapter by Saturday night! Promise! I've got so much planned! I've even been researching in my spare time, and I've rewritten the entire first three chapters (I beefed them up and made them longer). If you guys want me to post them, just lemme know!


	6. Chapter Five

Dear Readers,

I understand how long it has been since I updated this story, and I do apologize for the wait. I stopped for a while because I had strong thoughts about rewriting this and publishing it, but I ended up changing the story so much, it looks nothing like this was originally. Now, about a year later, after countless writing exercises and stories under another account, I've decided to come back and finish this story, as I feel guilty for not finishing these characters' tale properly. As a fair warning, my writing style has changed a lot over the past year, and I've gotten a lot more sophisticated with my skills, due to a little class called AP Language and Composition. XD Also, as it has been so long, I don't quite remember the entire story I was trying to tell here, but I've got a couple ideas, so hopefully it'll be better than ever. However, if you do have a plot suggestion, I will gladly listen! This chapter may be a little rough, as I have to get back into the mode of this story. I find it difficult to write this, as my writing wasn't exactly great when I wrote this. If it doesn't flow, I apologize.

* * *

The sight of the girl frightened me – she blended with the snow, her porcelain skin perfect and untouched, her hair so dark and her cheeks so bright, she appeared to me as a Lolita doll: sweet, but in the creepiest of ways. She grinned at me as she held her hands together in front of her, taking a few steps towards me. "You can call me Ann if you wish, but not in front of my grandmother," she sang charmingly, but not in a natural way.

"I'm Molly," I replied, as there wasn't much else to say.

And so there was silence; Ann stood there, like a deer caught in the headlights. I looked at her awkwardly as her stone color eyes stared into mine, mystery and curiosity spreading across her face in a cat-like purr. She said nothing.

I felt the tension growing, her eyes remaining cemented to my own. "I noticed a rabbit by the road …"

"Yes?" she questioned.

"It was killed." I paused, "Do you have dangerous animals around here?" I forced a tiny giggle, trying to break the eye contact she insisted on maintaining. "My new home is only a shack, so –"

She laughed as she interrupted me, "This is a mountain. Do you expect wild kittens?" At long last she adverted her gaze past me, her eyes towards the spot I had seen the corpse. "We have many creatures here … mountain lions, especially. I've heard rumors of bears as well, but I have never seen one myself."

"Oh," I started, "I didn't think mountain lions went for animals that small … but -"

"Oh, no no no, silly," she interjected once again, a smirk spread across her face. "The mountain lions here don't usually come this close to the home, and they don't usually kill the rabbits. My brother does." She crossed her arms and took a heavy breath. "My grandmother bought him a gun for his birthday – a nice one …" she trailed off, looking me up and down in a casual manner. "She'll be ecstatic you made it in time for his celebration dinner."

I held my breath. "Should I be concerned?"

"About which? The animals or the gun?"

"Both."

Ann grinned, her face lighting up with amusement. "Don't worry, Miss Beaumont. Our home is protected from any creatures you might be worried about – the room you'll be staying is in one of the towers, anyway." She turned her back to me, beginning to move slowly along the path towards the forest. "And as for my brother, I wouldn't worry. He's already messed up once; if he messes up again, my grandmother will not be as tolerant as she was last time."

I rushed after her, stumbling as I struggled to take steps as the snow began to grow deeper and deeper. "This dinner … it's for your brother's birthday?"

"Yes, he is seventeen today." She glanced back over her shoulder at me, a humorous yet snobby look on her face. "Hurry up, so we can get you dressed in some appropriate attire."

I frowned a little, slightly insulted. "Have I ever met your brother?"

"No, but you have met my grandmother. "

"I don't remember …"

"You were a baby."

"I really don't understand what's –"

"We'll answer questions later. Now, we need to get you dressed and to the dinning hall."


	7. Stealer, Stealer

**Dear Readers,**

**I come to you today because someone on this website, in this same section, has actually stolen my story idea. **

**Yes, stolen.**

**What do I do? Do I continue the story? Do I give up? Should I take my story down to prevent further plagerism? (If I did, I would send my readers updates through email).**

**I'm completely clueless as to what to do about this. Please, let me know! :(**


	8. Chapter Six

I'm not sure what I've decided to do about the plagerism thing yet. For now, I've decided that I'm not going to let it stop me. So, here is the next extension of the story. It's a little longer! :D

Also, I'm looking for a co-author to help me write this. If you're interested, please PM me! I work so much better when I write with a partner, and I'd just like to see how it'd go.

* * *

It all started to sink in when I first caught glimpse of the house. The fact that I, Molly Beaumont, was not going to return to home flooded my mind, sending shivers down my spine and swelling my throat. I began to realize that my family, the only ones I had left, had abandoned me in the hands of a stranger, leaving me alone on the side of a cold, foreign mountain. There would be no more movie nights with my best friends; no more art class, no more lame Star Wars jokes. There would be no more Friday dinners with my grandparents and neighbors, in which we would dine at the local Cajun restaurant, laughing about my quirky habits or my grandfather's toupee. It had all come to a sudden, painful end.

I gazed upon the snow-covered house in awe, its sheer size and gothic structure sending me into shock as I grew closer and closer. It was as if I was staring at the Notre Dame Cathedral, although I was nowhere near France. Gray stone made up its composition, while mosaic glass and vast windows were scattered in symmetry along the walls. Frost lined the windows, and winter-wilted gardens were scattered across the lawn. In front of the grand door was a stone fountain, frozen in its place from the bitter temperature.

I followed Ann as she guided me around the fountain, marching up the stairs to the wooden door that stood directly in front of me. She grasped the silver door handle with her cold and porcelain hands, firmly planting both feet to the ground as she yanked. She looked over her shoulder at me as she entered, "Welcome home."

The warmth from inside hit me as if I had just walked into a fire, causing me to close my eyes and allow my body to adjust. My eyes started to water from the sudden impact, but the rest of my body screamed with delight as the warmth overwhelmed me. I took a small sigh of relief, and my previously chilled and tense muscles began to relax. I opened my eyes.

The foyer was darker than I expected it to be, lit only by a crystal chandelier hanging from above. The walls were paneled in chocolate colored wood, and the floor was a dark marble. Paintings were scattered across the walls, most depicting the winter landscape of the mountain. However, one in particular caught my eye.

Normally, I would laugh at how cliché the picture actually was, but the shock from the events earlier wouldn't allow it. Hanging from the wall, framed in a mahogany colored wood, was the painting of a young couple. The man, who looked to be about twenty, was dressed in what appeared to be a soldier's uniform, but much nicer and expensive. He had a stoic appearance, no expression spread across his face. The woman next to him, however, was the main focus of the image. She had thin blond hair that was pulled back to the nape of her neck in a braided bun, her stone gray eyes meeting that of her partner. She was seated while the man was standing, her arms politely folded while her legs were properly crossed.

"Beautiful, wasn't she?" Ann asked suddenly, her voice breaking my though.

I glanced over, nodding.

Ann smiled. "That was my grandmother on her seventeenth birthday, when she married my grandfather." She motioned her head to the painting next to it. "That one there is my parents, and the one before my grandmother's is her father and his wife." She began to walk down the row of paintings, stopping where they ended. "This is where Thomas and I will go," she said briskly, smiling. She looked over at me, and pointed to the next empty spot on the wall. "And that is where you and my brother will be."

I opened my mouth to speak, but she interjected. "We don't have time to explain any further, we'll talk about it later. Follow me, so you can get changed."

She dashed up a spiral set of stairs I hadn't been able to notice due to my awe over the paintings – I followed, prancing behind as quickly as I could. When we reached the top, she started down a dimly lit hallway that matched the foyer almost entirely.

"Would you like to wear a black dress or a red one?" Ann asked, scurrying down the hall.

"I'm not really sure," I paused, "what do they look like?"

Ann stopped dead in her tracks, staring back at me. She looked me up and down, and smirked. "Black will do."

She started towards a door, turning the handle when she reached it. She casually pushed it open, grabbing my wrist harshly and pulling me inside.

I blinked several times as my eyes adjusted to the lighting. This room, much brighter then the halls, was obviously a bedroom. In the center was a king sized, princess style bed, adorned with a deep red quilt with gold embroidery. On the wall across from it was a dark, wooden dresser that matched the panels that covered the walls. Immediately, Ann started digging through it. Within seconds, she pulled out a black, lacy dress, shoving it into my arms.

"Change!" She exclaimed rapidly. "I'll be in the hallway when you're done."

I emerged from the bedroom wearing the dress she had given me. It was black with short lace sleeves, the dress itself ending just above my knees. Instantly, I realized why my grandmother had insisted so badly that I shave before we boarded the plan.

Ann grinned in almost a devilish manner. "Perfect!" She glanced down. "I'm assuming you need heels?"

Before I could speak, she was in and out of the room again, this time handing me a pair of black shoes with only a slight lift to them.

"You don't look like the type that would be able to walk in tall shoes," she laughed, her accent shinning through more than ever. "Now, no the ballroom." She started once again down the hall, my now numb body on her trail.

"Nervous?" She asked.

"More confused, but yes."

"My brother has a very big mouth, I'm sure he will explain."

"Why won't you?"

Ann chuckled. "I value my life."

"My grandparents? They're gone?"

"Oh, of course. They aren't exactly on my grandmother's good side."

"What do you mean?"

"They tried everything they could to get out of the deal – they even lied."

I cringed. "They apparently have a tendency to do that."

"What about you, Miss Beaumont?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you have a tendency to lie?"

"I'm brutally honest."

"Well, then, are you ready?" Ann asked, approaching a large, wooden double door.

"I'm not exactly sure what to be ready for."

"Just … don't let him get to you," she stated firmly, pushing open the doors.

My eyes gazed upon a grand ballroom, the walls and flooring of marble, and seven chandeliers lighting the room in an almost holy glow. The room was large, while not as vast as one of royal standards. In the center of the room was a long dining table, full of elegantly dressed people. When they saw me, the men at the table all stood in a mannerly way – except for one.

He just sat, his cold eyes set upon mine.


	9. Chapter Seven

Alright, chapter seven! The chapters get longer as I get more into it! XD Remember to read and review, leave story suggestions, and leave some awesome reviews! You guys are what keeps me going!

Oh, and I'm still looking for a co-writer!

Hope you enjoy this chapter! This one's were the story starts to pick up some pace! :)

* * *

The room was silent except for a shuffles and coughs from around the room. I felt everyone's eyes penetrating me, sending a nervous shockwave throughout my body as I kept my focus on the boy with the cold eyes.

He was young, in his upper teenager years, with a soft European face and ashen skin. He was dressed like a gentleman, in a white button up shirt with a ruby tie, his hair clashing with his formal appearance. Askew and tousled, his wavy brown bands fell slightly in front of his eyes, the rest coming to an end at a little past his chin. The most prominent feature, however, was the slight discoloration of the area around his stone colored eyes; it looked like he hadn't slept in days, although his eyes themselves showed no signs of being tired. He kept his gaze, as I kept mine. Neither of us broke the stare.

He snorted.

"Welcome, Miss Moana Beaumont," said a woman seated at the end of the table. The men surrounding her took a seat as she motioned for me to come closer to the others. My heart dropped as I realized she had referred to me using my real name – my grandmother was the only one that ever did so. I slowly began to shuffle my way towards the table, Ann following behind.

"Good evening, Grandmother," Ann charmingly announced, taking her seat besides the woman. I looked over at the lady that had spoken my name, noticing that she was indeed the same girl as in the one in the painting. However, her hair was much shorter, only reaching the nape of her neck, and she look more mature as well, although not wrinkled or worn. She was dressed in a lavender blouse, my eyes immediately jumping to the grand diamond necklace that hung from her neck, sparkling brighter then the chandeliers that rested above. She smiled at me.

"Guests, family, I am proud to announce the arrival of our newest member of the Doubek family," the woman stood, gesturing her hands towards me in an elegant fashion. The guest around me began to clap softly, as panic rushed into my head. The lady gazed upon me, politely nodding her head I approval as the crowd finished their applause. "You may take your seat across from Liam, so that we may begin dinning shortly."

I glanced awkwardly down the banquet table, noticing the only open seat. I started in its direction, the boy with the cold eyes once again catching my attention. The seat was across from him.

"Wait! Miss Beaumont!" started a young man a few seats down from the empty one as he leaped from his own chair and dashed to my own. He pulled it out from under the table for me, extending his hand for me to shake. Courteously, I reached out to grasp his hand, but instead he took mine in his own, putting it to his mouth and grazing it with his lips.

The boy with the cold eyes let out a loud cough.

The polite boy shot the other a gaze, his eyes returning to my own. I felt myself begin to blush. The chivalrous young man was tall with golden hair, his face sculpted perfectly, but his teeth a little out of place. He had piercing blue eyes that sparkled in the light as they caught mine. My heart fluttered as he grinned.

"It's only polite of me to pull out the chair for you, Miss Beaumont. After all, it is an honor to meet someone of such elegance and of such a high stature –"

"Thomas!" Ann exclaimed from down the table, and I noticed she looked slightly distraught. The people in between grew silent. "Weren't you about to tell my grandmother about your ideas for the winter ball?" Her eyes were stern.

Thomas nodded. "Yes, of course …" he trailed off as he made his way back to his spot beside Ann as I took my seat amongst strangers.

The boy with the cold eyes started at me, his face unreadable as he reached for the glass full of clear liquid in front of him – it appeared to be champagne, or something of those sorts.

Chatter began to fill the ballroom.

"I'm Molly," I said to the boy quietly, tired of the awkward tension that filled the area around me. The two people next to me were both middle aged, and already engaged in other conversation.

The boy just held his gaze for a moment, setting his glass back to the table with a thud. "I know," he spoke softly and bluntly.

"You're Liam?"

"Yes."

"And it's your birthday?"

"Yes."

I paused. "Did you … get any nice gifts?"

He looked me up and down. "Obviously not."

I stopped for a moment. "Oh, but I heard your sister saying you got a gun?"

"I don't consider that a gift."

"Why not?"

"It's not what I was promised."

"I'm sorry."

The boy paused. "That's my sister's dress."

"It is," I said bluntly. Two could play at this game.

"I don't like it on you."

"It's better then what I had on."

"You're not suppose to dress like a slut to a formal celebration."

The people surrounding stopped all conversation.

"It's not slutty at all, in any way, shape, or form."

"Obviously Thomas thought so. He wouldn't have spoken to you if it wasn't."

"Maybe Thomas just has manners, unlike someone else."

"He has manners, sure, if you're skirt is hiked up enough."

"It's your sister's dress."

He let out a laugh. "Exactly."

I glared.

He smirked. "After all, how else do you think she gets her fiancés attention?"

"How do you expect to get yours?"

"I already have it."

"Oh, really?"

"Indeed, at this very moment."

I swallowed hard, reached for the small class of water resting in front of me. "What?"

He smirked again. "They haven't told you?" he asked, saying it more like a statement then a question.

"I know absolutely nothing."

"Don't borrow my sister's clothes anymore."

"I apparently don't have any 'appropriate' attire."

"Neither does my sister, and I'm sure her's are inappropriate as in revealing, while your's is inappropriate as in cheap."

I choked on a bit of my water. "Excuse me?"

He rolled his eyes. "You heard what I said, don't make me repeat myself."

At that moment, the grandmother stood from her position at the end of the table, tapping her spoon to her glass. The ballroom grew silent. She cleared her throat and smiled sweetly. "At this time, before we dine, I would like to propose a toast in honor of my grandson's birthday, as well as his engagement to his beautiful new bride-to-be, Miss Beaumont."

My heart skipped a beat, and I started to feel woozy as the crowd started to cheer and applaud. I sat there, paralyzed. I noticed that Liam did virtually the same.

"Liam," the grandmother continued, "your parents apologize for not being able to make it tonight." I glanced over, noting a hint of disappointment in his eyes before it quickly disappeared. "They hope to be able to fly in for the wedding, or at the very least the engagement party."

Liam nodded.

"With that being said," the mature lady stated, "let us begin our dinner."

Three waiters emerged from the halls, plates of salad in elegant bowls in hand. I figured it was the first course. They walked up and down the table, handing only Liam, Thomas, an old man, and a pair of younger children plates. Everyone else remained seated and chatting, receiving silver goblets to drink from.

I sat silently for what seemed like an eternity as everyone else began to drink or dine on their plate, trying to make sense of what the grandmother had just said. It wasn't long before I began to receive strange looks.

I reached next to my plate, picking up a fork. I instantly noticed how heavy it was. It must have been real. Slowly, trying not to look awkward, I stuck my fork in the garden-fresh greens, and lifted it to my mouth.

Liam glared at me, an applaud look in his eyes, as if he were about to slap the food out of my mouth at that very moment. "You're using the wrong fork."

"Oh." I set the fork down.

"Were you not taught manners?" he sneered.

"Were you not taught to respect your fiancé?"

He grew quiet, and reverted back to eating his salad.

"Which fork is it anyway?"

"The cold one."

"Oh, sorry."

"Are you really that clueless?"

"Sorry, in America we don't waste time chilling our silverware if the food is already cold."

He rolled his eyes.


	10. Chapter Eight

**CHARACTERS ARE MINE, STORYLINE IS MINE. DO NOT STEAL. I WILL FIND YOU.**

Hey guys! So I tried to make this chapter a little longer, due to a lot of requests. It's really hard for me to do so, since I've always been taught to right to the point and it's just become my style. Anyway, I really hope you like this chapter! I took the story in a little twist direction, so I hope you enjoy. Please, plot suggestions are always welcome, and reviews are what keep me going! Oh, and would werewolves vs vampires be too cliche? I think maybe, but I really want my readers' opinions!

Chapter song is Past Praying For by VersaEmerge and Long, Long Time Ago from the Pan's Labyrinth Soundtrack, but mainly Oh Death by Jen Titus.

* * *

I was the only one left in the ballroom. Dinner had finished in silence, and the others had exited to parlor to say their farewells. Liam had been directed by his grandmother to walk me to the room with the others, but he just stood, leaving with the crowd. I sat alone, the only one among the vast rows of chairs.

My heart began to sink. _Married?_ _To Liam?_

I started to blink back tears, the realization setting in. It was almost as if I had just had an epiphany – it all started to make sense. I wanted home. I wanted America. I wanted to _date_. I wanted someone who loved me – I wanted my family.

They had abandoned me, though. I shook my head violently, crossing my arms as I began sinking lower and lower into the extravagant chair, stroking the floral designs etched into the wood of the arm rest, deep in thought.

They had flown me to another country, dropped me off like I was a bag of trash, and left me with strangers - specifically, a stranger I was destined to marry.

Was I some kind of 'debt relief' plan? Someone equivalent to a couple dollar bills?

I swallowed. _Moana Marie Doubek._

"Well … that doesn't look like a happy face."

I snapped my head around in a flash, spotting a familiar sight. Thomas stood behind me, both his hands resting upon the back of my hair, his weight leaning against it. He had a charming smile spread across his face, but concern spread across the surface of his eyes. I instantly sat up – I wasn't the type to let people see me cry.

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

I adjusted myself in my seat so I could face him, brushing my hair out of my face. I forced a giggle. "I'm … just really … - "

"Confused?" he asked.

I nodded. "Exactly."

He light brushed his golden hair out of his eye with great ease, plopping himself into the seat next to me, crossing his legs and casually leaning back. "Perhaps," he paused, "I could be of some assistance?"

"Then," I stated playfully, "tell me, oh Thomas, what in bloody hell is going on?"

He smirked. "A little thing called primitive practices."

"Hmm, more specific please."

He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his eyebrows, grinning. "There's not much more to say. You plus Liam equals love."

I allowed the biggest expression of sarcasm possible to overcome my face. "Love?"

He chuckled. "Well, marriage at least."

I was silent.

"It's … not _that_ bad." His grin faded when he say that my eyes had begun to water. I fought the urge to allow tears to stream down my face. He avoided eye contact, gazing at the floor. "But then again, I've got Ann, not a nasty motherfucker like Liam."

And for the first time since I had arrived in Slovenia, I let out a genuine laugh.

"Why me?" I asked, a smirk still wide across my face.

He shrugged. "I just know it was agreed upon before you both were born. I'm not positive of the details."

"Well, at least my family wasn't _aware_ he was a total asshole."

"Between you and me," Thomas snickered, "Ann isn't exactly a ball of sunshine either."

"Liam said something about 'slutty'?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm not exactly complaining about that."

"Then what exactly are you talking about?"

"I think you'll find out in good time …" he trailed off.

I laid back in my chair, crossing my legs and resting my head. I solemnly listen to the echo of Thomas' voice flood the ballroom, bouncing off the marble. I had never realized how creepy the house was until now. Neither of us spoke until the voice faded, and I gazed over at him, my eyebrow peaked. "So about Liam?"

"The 'literal' son of a bitch?" he asked. "What about him?"

"Is he really like that?"

"Like what?"

"The embodiment of Satan?"

Thomas chuckled. "Let's just say the Devil would make a much better groom."

"His eyes …" I stated.

"He's an unwell young man." He frowned.

"Unwell?" My smirk faded.

"He's dying, but his family is In the process of fixing it."

"His family? If he's dying, he needs to see a doctor."

"Let's just say … his family has a cure that no doctor could compare to," he said. "But only if they feel he's worthy of it … which they're border line about." He roughly stood, using his chair as leverage. Reaching down, he smoothed the wrinkles from his pants and shirt, adjusting his emerald tie into place. He extended his arm in my direction. I gladly took hold, standing up myself. He grinned. "Enough about him, though. What about you?"

"What about me?" I asked, fixing the ruffles in my dress. I slowly, pushed in my chair, not taking my eyes off Thomas.

"Well, Miss Moana, how are you so unbelievably beautiful?"

I paused, taken back. I watched his eyes look me up and down. I urgently pulled up the top of my dress. "Thank you?"

"I enjoyed having this conversation," he smiled, moving in for a hug. I didn't move.

At that moment, the doors to the ballroom swung open with a loud and shattering thud. Thomas immediately halted his attempt to wrap me in his arms, taking a giant step back, shoving his hands into his pockets. My head bolted around. Liam was standing in the gaping doorway, nothing but the dim lighting from the hall behind him.

Instantly, I noticed his eyes were not focused on me, but instead on Thomas, glaring at him with a cold stare. I felt tension overwhelm me as their eyes met, and my sight jumped to what my 'fiancé' was wearing. Muddy boots covered his feet, worn black pants tucked into them. His torso was covered with a heavy coat, much like one would imagine a boarding school student wearing – beneath it I could see the red tie and white button up he was wearing earlier at the celebration. I glared at him, up and down, my vision landing on what he gripped in his hand.

A rifle.

I watched the two boys keep their gaze, feeling like I had landed dead in the middle of a western. The room was silent for what seemed like decades, until Liam spoke. "Leave," he said to the man standing next to me. Thomas didn't move.

"What do you want?" Thomas questioned, folding his arms as he stood firmly in his place.

Liam lifted the gun, panic shooting up my spine. "Moana and I are going hunting." He repeated, "Leave."

I could see Thomas jump slightly, obviously noticing the gun for the first time. Urgency filled his face, his eyes bolting from me to Liam. I heard him grinding his teeth, even from the distance I was at. He clenched his jaw, speaking through his teeth. "I'm not going to let what happened last time happen again."

"Don't tell me what to do," Liam stated firmly but with a stoic nature. "This is my house, leave."

Thomas smirked as he started briskly towards the door, his feet hitting the ground with force as his footsteps echoed throughout the room; he walked with anger. Reaching Liam, he stopped, staring him right in the eye. "It won't be for much longer, Doubek," he mumbled, having to slightly look up to maintain eye contact with Liam. He continued, "Just remember that."

Liam smirked in a sick and malicious manner.

Thomas started once again for the door, his head turning back over his shoulder to face me. "Watch your back," he said simply, and then continued to exit the room. The doors slammed behind him.

Our eyes met, my slight panic increasing as he kept the gun in my direction. I swallowed, trying my best to hide the fear he had suddenly forced upon me. "Liam."

"Moana," he stated bluntly, lowering his gun. He started towards me at a slow pace.

"My name is Molly." I stood completely still.

"Molly is a dog's name," he mocked, reaching the halfway point between us. "Your name is Moana now."

"You don't control what my name is," I sneered, feeling the heat accumulate in my forehead.

"I think I do, at least what I call you." He stood in front of me, our faces barely two inches apart. "Do you have a coat?"

"At the cottage," I said bluntly, searching through my mind for a comeback, until I remembered the gun. "Perhaps your grandmother has one I could borrow?"

"You'll go without," he said, grabbing my arm. I immediately noticed his grip was firm but gentle, and in a weak manner. _He's dying_, flashed through my mind. Before I could say anything, he began to pull me towards the hall.

I found myself once again in the front yard of the mansion, snow falling softly on my bare skin as I followed Liam around the center fountain and back towards the road I had been abandoned on, the forest growing thicker and thicker with every step. The bitter wind began to pick up, chilling me to the bone. I began to shiver as Liam looked back over his shoulder at me, rolling his eyes.

"Can you climb?" he asked, leading us off the path into the woods.

"I can hold my ground," I lied, knowing nothing about climbing. I was a dancer, not a hiker.

He was quiet for a moment as we trudged through the snow. "Stay away from Thomas," he suddenly muttered.

I got a momentary sense of courage. "No."

"Yes."

"He's the only one that's actually had enough respect to fill me in on at least some of the things going on here."

"It's better you don't know."

"That I don't know I'm getting _married_?"

Liam was silent.

I continued, "And that the boy I'm marrying is dying?"

Liam stopped dead in his tracks. "Who told you that?" he growled.

It was my turn to be silent as regret caused my heart to pound.

"Who told you that?" he reiterated, his usually passionless voice growing imperative, with a sense of burning anxiety.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Who told you?"

"I think I had the right to know."

He was quiet for what seemed like an eternity as he stood in front of me, his eyes on the snow covered ground. Guilt encouraged me to speak, but I kept as silent as possible. Finally, he spoke, "Leukemia." He paused for a moment. "If everyone has their way, I won't make it to our wedding day."


	11. UPDATE

_I wrote this story so long ago that I can't even believe I still want to pick it up and continue it. I started this before I even knew how to write properly, and now I'm and now I'm minoring in Creative Writing at a university. Time flies, right? Anyway, I kind of went through a period where I hated my writing, and I started this during that period. I had no confidence in the material I created, therefore I never really finished anything. This fic right here was smack-dab in the middle of that time. _

_I'm currently writing an unrelated novel right now, but **IF** and **ONLY IF** people would like me to pick this up again in my spare time, I will. I'll update as frequently as I can, chapters will be MUCH longer (I was like 16 when I wrote this and it's horrible), and subjects will be much more mature. If you're interested, please leave a review or send me a personal message. I've gotten to a point in my life where I really do have time to write and create, so I would have time to dedicate to this piece._

_If you'd like to see how my writing has progressed, check out some of the works I've written for American Horror Story._


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